On August 8, 2016 we lost on of the most kind, strong, honest, pragmatic, and caring souls the world has ever known: Carmen Dorsey, or “Grandmagrandma” as Moxie called her. Her official obit is here.
Many of you family members, friends, and blog followers know the badass that was Carmen Dorsey. She welcomed everyone into every home, laughed at all (most) jokes, loved every. single. dog. in the world and had infinite patience and acceptance for all of us. Now, that makes sense for her husband, only child, and gorgeous grandchildren. But for her neurotic daughter in law? Yes. Even for me. Carmen loved me and accepted me for exactly what and who I am at every moment we had together over the last 12 years.
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Out for dinner after Ron and Carmen’s official last day as middle school teachers |
I’m not sure what I expected when I joined this super tight knit threesome: Ron, Carmen and Strider. They have their own jokes and eat weird burgers. I was moving their son away from DC and back West. He was taking a big risk moving with me and Carmen never blinked an eye. She loved me like a daughter immediately and completely. I miss her so much already.
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After Moxie’s epic first birthday. |
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Carmen, showing her incredible patience as the rest of the family melts down |
Carmen also taught me how to be a better mother. She laughed at all Strider’s jokes. I mean all of them. She kept a steady level of emotional support to him in the ways that he could take it–not just in the ways she wanted to give it. She loved us. So. Much. I’m going to try to channel her love and patience with my kids and my whole family the rest of my life.
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The first time the GPs met Moxie. |
A few memories:
The first time I met Carmen, in July 2004, she welcomed me into her home and immediately accepted me. There wasn’t any “this is my only son don’t mess this up” she was just like “do you want two or three pancakes with your chocolate milk?” She also immediately talked to me about the importance of a woman’s right to choose. Hell yeah.
Carmen’s first bone marrow transplant in 2007. She is so bad ass that her hallucinations were only about animals. Ok that’s not the big take away. The big take away from that time was just how freaking strong she was. Her strength is example I will try to (and fail to) live up to the rest of my life.
Visiting Moxie for the first time. This woman. She cleaned every bottle, every surface, fed us, and rocked that baby in our living room with such love. Such. Love. I was crazy, Strider was overwhelmed, our life was barely together and she and Ron came and kept us alive. They tag teamed diaper changes in the sweetest way.
She had this way with our newborns. She rocked them and celebrated them–grossness and all. She had them do their “exercises” where she would lay them on their backs on the couch and help them twist from side to side.
Bath, story, and playtime with Carmen were AMAZING. She was willing to play any imaginary game, make up the craziest stories, and spend as long or as little time on a topic as the girls wanted. Honestly, she met them exactly where they were and had the best freaking time. She met all of us where we were and I think that’s a big part of what made us all feel so accepted and so loved by her.
For those of you feeling lost or sad–please know we feel that way too. But we also feel so supported by the love and outreach from friends and family in this time. As I mentioned before, Carmen loved animals–ask Ron about the German Shepherd and the split rail fence someday–so if you’d like to *do* something please donate to
Wichita’s Humane Society.